


Safe & Sound

by ErinisMagic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mild Gore, Oops, Safe and Sound, Song fic, Weechesters, i killed sam again, kid! Dean Winchester, kid! Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:42:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"See, Sammy? Safe and sound, just like I promised."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe & Sound

**I remember tears streaming down your face**  
 **When I said, "I'll never let you go"**  
 **When all those shadows almost killed your light**  
 **I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"**  
 **But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight**

Their last argument echoed through Dean's mind, mocking him with all the clues he should have picked up on.

 _“Dean,_ please! _I have a bad feeling about this. Please don't leave.”_

_“You'll be fine, Sam. I'll only be gone for an hour. Two hours, tops.”_

_“Don't leave me here alone, Dean. Please? It doesn't feel right. Please don't go.”_

_“Stop acting like such a child.”_

_“I am a child!”_

_“Shut up, Sam! I'll be back later.”_

Sam had had tears on his face as he pleaded his brother not to leave, but Dean left anyway. Now, it was Dean who was crying. Sam was right, he was just a child. He was only nine, not even into the double digits. Even though he never acted like it, at thirteen, Dean was still just a child, too. Not that it mattered anymore. Not to him.

He heard it before he even walked through the door; Sam's sharp, pained cry. “Sam!” Dean bellowed, charging into the house and heading straight for Sam's room, running faster than he ever had before. The door was closed, not locked, and Dean shouldered it open, both hands on the gun he was holding. _Just in case,_ he had told himself when he grabbed it off the table, because even though he knew that he was going to need it, every fiber in his being wished that he wouldn't.

John hadn't told them what he had been hunting in the area, but Dean guessed that, whatever it was, this was it. It was big and hairy, with curving yellow claws and rotten teeth, growling viciously as it stood over Sammy.

The first shot Dean fired got its attention, the second took it down. The third shot made sure it stayed dead, and the fourth was just to be safe. The fifth, sixth, and seventh shots didn't really have a purpose, but they sure as hell made Dean feel better.

With the creature dead, he threw the gun to the side and went for Sam, not even seeing him but already feeling sick. No one would scream like that just because they were scared, especially Sam, and the coppery scent of blood had caught his attention before he had even stepped into the room.

“Sammy?” he called to his little brother, praying that it wasn't as bad a he was imagining. He didn't think he would be able to live with himself if that creature had hurt Sam just because he had been too stupid to notice that something was wrong.

“Dean,” Sam coughed weakly as he got closer, and Dean could see that it wasn't as bad as he had imagined. It was worse.

Four diagonal gashes had torn up Sam's abdomen, probably reaching all the way through his body but Dean couldn't tell. He didn't really want to check, either.

“Shh, Sammy. It's okay. It's dead; I killed it,” he soothed, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes. “ _Shit_ , Sam. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn't have left.”

“Nt yer faul', D'n,” Sam slurred, even though Dean knew it was.

Dean knew that he had to call someone, but the phone was in the living room and he really didn't want to leave Sam alone, not again. “I'm gonna take you into the living room, okay Sammy?” he asked, voice shaking slightly. He didn't wait for Sam to reply, but gently slid one arm behind Sam's neck, the other under his knees. He stood as quickly as he could without shaking Sam, who gasped and cried anyway.

“It's okay, Sammy. I got you. I'm not letting go.” With that, he took the first careful steps into the hall, living room feeling an eternity away.

  
 **Don't you dare look out your window**  
 **Darling, everything's on fire**  
 **The war outside our door keeps raging on**  
 **Hold on to this lullaby**  
 **Even when music's gone**

  
Dean walked as quickly as he could without jostling his brother, but he still felt that it wasn't fast enough. He kept his eyes on Sam's pained and tired face, not even daring to risk looking out the window. It was late October, now, and all of the leaves on the trees had turned from lush green to vibrant shades of red and gold. In the light from the setting sun, it almost looked like they were on fire. Why did he have to loose everyone to fire?

Somewhere out there, their dad was hunting; fighting an unwinnable war to eliminate all monsters like this one from the earth, because they knew what they did to people. Demons had killed their mom, and now this thing had hurt Sammy. _Just hurt, not killed. He won't die, not from this._

It felt like ages before they finally made it into the living room. Dean practically collapsed onto the hardwood floor and leaned against the back of the sofa, all of his energy suddenly gone. He reached up onto the end table and grabbed the phone, quickly punching in John's number and trying not to notice the blood he smeared on the buttons while doing so. He brought the phone to his ear, holding his breath as it rang. He cursed softly when their father didn't pick up, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. John hardly ever answered his phone when he was on a hunt, but Dean wished that, just this once, he would have.

He hung up the phone and paused for a moment, fingers hovering uncertainly over the keys. Their father had always told them never to involve the authorities, as there would always be too many things they couldn't explain, but what else could he do? Upon hearing another deep cough and a pained moan from Sammy, who Dean cradeled in his free arm, Dean quickly dialed 911, knowing that, even if they asked him questions he wouldn't be able to answer, at least they would be able to help Sam, and that was all that mattered.

When he heard a soft, feminine voice answer the phone with “911, what's your emergency?”, he felt as though, if it weren't for his present situation, he might have been able to laugh from sheer relief.

“My brother was attacked,” he cried into the phone, words coming out so fast the emergency dispatcher had trouble keeping up. “He's all cut up and it's really bad. He's lost a lot of blood so you gotta come quick!” He gave the woman the address of the house they were renting, but hung up on her and tossed the phone to the other side of the room when she started asking him useless questions about what had happened, trying to get him to calm down. He didn't have time for any of that, he needed to be there for Sam.

  
 **Just close your eyes**  
 **The sun is going down**  
 **You'll be alright**  
 **No one can hurt you now**  
 **Come morning light**  
 **You and I'll be safe and sound**

 

“It's gonna be okay, Sammy. Don't worry, alright? You're gonna be fine,” he whispered to his little brother, whom he still cradled in his arms just like he had that night their father had handed the six-month old child to his older brother and told Dean to take him out of the house and away from the fire, a memory that made Dean's heart hurt even more. “The doctors are gonna come and patch you up, make you all better.” He forced a smile onto his face and hoped it was convincing.

Sam coughed again, small flecks of blood falling out and dotting his chin to match the small trail that trickled out of the corner of his mouth, bright red against deathly white. “Dee,” he moaned, eyelids starting to droop.

“Shh,” he quieted his brother. “Don't talk, Sam, okay? Save your breath.” But _God_ Dean wanted him to talk. Wanted to hear his happy, innocent voice telling him outrageous stories and laughing at his jokes, or scolding him the way little kids do when you try to get their goat by saying something stupid. He wanted Sam to talk to him, because he was scared he might never hear his voice again.

Sam just let out a ghost of a laugh and smiled weakly. “Doe-n't hurt 'nymoe, Dee.”

A quick flash of worry stabbed at Dean's heart before he heard the thin wail of an ambulance siren filtering in from the distance, at which he let out a quiet breath of relief. “See, Sammy?” he said. “Safe and sound, just like I promised.”

"…"

“Sam? Sammy?!”

The EMTs burst into the room, seconds too late. Dean was crying, screaming Sam's name as they rushed in with their equipment. Someone pulled him away and he fought back, needing to be at Sam's side, but he was too overwhelmed with emotion to break free from the arms holding him back.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, he's my brother!” But that was a lie, because Dean didn't have a brother.

Not anymore.

  
 **Just close your eyes**  
 **You'll be alright**  
 **Come morning light**  
 **You and I'll be safe and sound**


End file.
